


missed connection

by Tracy Jacks (richeyedwards)



Category: Blur, Britpop Fandom, Britpop RPF
Genre: M/M, but i needed to challenge myself, i hate writing in 1st/2nd person, idk what is up with the timeline, it's p vague i guess lmao, non blur verse ??, shrug emoji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-12 20:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10498650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/richeyedwards/pseuds/Tracy%20Jacks
Summary: Something brought us to the park so we could meet and literally collide.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Damon writes a "missed connection" and wonders where that young man with the glasses and portfolio has gone.

I nearly destroyed your art project when our worlds quite literally collided. 

You carried it in a flimsy portfolio that looked ready to fall apart anyways. I guess I had sped up the process when I crashed right into you. I knocked you over instead because your first thought was to throw the portfolio instead. It landed on the grass and I landed on you. We were nose to nose and all I could think to do was laugh. I still remember your bewildered face at my initial reaction. Dark brown eyes widened behind large glasses. Your lips were slightly parted, forming a small ‘o.’ I stopped laughing then. Was it because of your expression? Or was it the fact that I noticed you were actually kind of attractive? Most likely both. 

There was a full moment where we just stayed in that spot on the ground. Never mind that we were in a public park, chest to chest like we were about to make out. I don’t know about you but in that moment, staring at you, I realized something. It wasn’t the fact that I was late to a job interview. That didn’t even occur to me until the end of the day. It’s going to sound wild when you read it but I realized that there was such a thing as fate. Something brought us to the park so we could meet and literally collide.

I helped you up and even fetched your tossed portfolio. It landed in the mud, a result of the previous night’s rainstorm. It didn’t look like it would survive this mishap. I apologized profusely once I found my voice and you were, surprisingly, understanding. You didn’t yell at me even though it was my fault that this happened.

Your acceptance of my apology didn’t seem like enough for me so I suggested we go grab a drink together. There was reluctance in your face. You looked around nervously and scratched the back of your neck. I couldn’t help but think that your anxious tics were a little endearing. Eventually you accepted after I introduced myself and you did the same. 

I mentioned my usual place. With a laugh, you confessed that my usual place was also your usual place. The coincidence seemed so small but it further solidified my newfound belief that there was something destined in this meeting. I could feel it in my bones. You and I weren’t just two strangers who bumped into each other then went on with our own merry days, never to think about this encounter ever again. You joked that it’d have to be referred to as “our usual place” now. 

We sat together and talked for hours, our glasses pretty much left untouched during the time we talked. Talking to you felt like I met with an old friend. We shared similar music tastes and recounted our failed attempts at starting bands. We both laughed at those. You told me of your struggles with art college while I reluctantly confessed a difficulty in landing a job. We found it easier to laugh about our respective problems rather than just lamenting over them. It seemed easier. It felt easier. At least it did when I laughed about being unemployed with you. 

Eventually, I excused myself to use the bathroom. There was hope blooming in my heart as I thought about when I could see you again. It sounded like desperation but I liked you so much during our short time together. I even considered reaching over to hold your hand. 

When I returned, the booth was empty save for the two warm pints of beer. Even your portfolio was gone. I looked around and hoped that maybe you had just wandered off but I never saw you again. Not the next, nor the day after that. I went back to “our place” nearly every day but I never saw you again. 

Needless to say, I was devastated in your sudden abandonment. The depression over your departure made it easier to force myself to be motivated for job searching. I finally did get a job that I wanted. A musician. I became a musician. In your absence, I lived a good life. I saw the world. I raised a beautiful child. As good as it gets, I find myself pausing to think about how much better it would have been had I never left that booth, thus allowing you to escape my clutches.

Perhaps there was a lot to lose. I don’t know. Did you feel the same way that I did? Were there butterflies in your stomach while we talked about our shared music interest? Did you also contemplate the possibility of holding my hand? I guess I’ll never know. Even as I cast this plea into the internet, in hopes of reeling you back in, I wish I could know. 

It’s been long enough, don’t you think?


End file.
